


Control is Overrated

by Ismene_Jane



Series: Overrated 'Verse [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Benny, Alpha Sam, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Sam, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunk Driving, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Omega Dean, Omega Samandriel, Pack Dynamics, Rimming, Samandriel's a bamf, Switching it up, Top Samandriel, Werewolves, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, and shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:09:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9152887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ismene_Jane/pseuds/Ismene_Jane
Summary: After a hard day at work, Sam needs to be pampered. Samandriel is happy to oblige.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HEY FRIENDS!  
> Remember how I said I'd update this before the end of the year? Yeeeeaaaaah. Oops.  
> I was going to write Dean/Benny bonding, but this year was a clusterfuck and this is what happened instead. 
> 
> There's mention of drunk driving and death (no major characters) so be careful of triggers. 
> 
> Thanks, as always, to LennaNightrunner and Pegasus_Eridana for their edits! I decided to write in present tense (because I'm nuts) so it was slightly harder than normal.

There are days like this.

Days when Samandriel comes home from work and the apartment that he shares with his bonded is still dark. The evidence of their shared breakfast still present on the countertops, but no other sign of Sam Winchester, himself. Days like this happen from time to time, to both of them, Samandriel knows. It is the cost of two junior-partners living together, sharing a life.

On this particular day, Samandriel isn’t all that exhausted from work. The day was pretty uneventful, really. Just finishing up an ad that he’s been working on for a kind of chewing gum, of all things. He’d spent most of the day going over proofs sent to him from the art department, and mostly it involved feeling impressed with his coworkers and at ease with his lot in life.

He comes in the door with an armful of groceries and immediately sets to work making dinner. He’s in the mood for something comforting, something to support the sense of ease that’s been surrounding him all day. He gets to work making meatloaf, enjoying the way the meat and eggs and oats and other things squish around his fingers. The action reminds him of his mama, the way she would take his hands in her own when he was a child and show him how to mix the meatloaf. He thinks of her saying, “Make sure you take off any rings you have on, and do it by hand. No mixing meatloaf with a spoon, love.”

He smiles as he puts the meatloaf in the oven, surrounded by warmth and the feel of his mama in the room with him. His childhood was mostly happy, uneventful in the best way. He has so many memories of his mama cooking, snuggling, sharing space with him. He doesn’t even feel a pang anymore at the absence of a father in those times. Samandriel’s mama never made him feel wanting, never alone in this life.

Of course, his mama’s absence at this time of year is always the hardest. Gearing up for holidays that are no longer filled with her warmth makes him a little melancholy. It can’t be helped, he supposes.

He looks at the clock on the kitchen wall and notices that it is nearly seven. Even with both of their jobs being as grueling as they can be, it’s rare for his alpha to be this late. Something must have happened at work, something that will have exhausted Sam, the only mystery is to what extent.

By the time the potatoes are mashed and the meatloaf is cooling on the stovetop, Samandriel can’t help but feel a little anxious at the time and his lack of fiancé. He checks his phone and is relieved to see that Sam texted twenty minutes earlier, saying he’ll be home soon.

Just as the relief washes over him, Samandriel hears the key turning in the lock on their front door and smiles as he continues setting the table. The smile quickly turns to a frown, however, when Sam’s normally calming scent washes over him. His alpha’s fall-scent of dried leaves and fresh rain mixed with tart cherries and cinnamon-cake is now sour with stress and anxiety. When Sam walks over the threshold to their kitchen/dining area, Samandriel can see the lines that this day has brought to his alpha’s face. He immediately rushes to Sam and sweeps him into his arms. Samandriel buries his nose in his alpha’s neck and pulls Sam’s head down to where his alpha can scent him in return.

“What happened?” Samandriel asks, petting his hands through Sam’s hair. It is one of his favorite parts of his alpha, and Sam knows it.

“Bad case.” Sam sighs. He pulls Samandriel tighter into his embrace. Samandriel grips Sam’s hair and pulls gently. Sam loves the pressure, and it helps ground them both.

“Do you want to tell me?” Samandriel whispers.

Sam whines a bit into the curve of Samandriel’s neck. “Drunk driver. Ran into a car. Killed a little girl and her omega father. The driver survived. The alpha father is suing the driver for damages, both physical and emotional.”

Samandriel can feel Sam’s tears soaking through his shirt.

“Baby,” he breathes. “I’m sorry, Sammy, so sorry.”

“We won,” Sam continues. “But seeing the alpha father there, his complete misery. It was…” Sam chokes and Samandriel tightens his grip on Sam’s hair. “It was heartbreaking. What happened to him—it’s so unfair.”

A drunk driver. Of course. Not only would Sam feel completely helpless that he wasn’t able to stop the terrible crime from happening in the first place, but nothing that Sam did to help the survivor will be enough in Sam’s eyes. In addition to that total mess, it will probably dredge up completely unwelcome memories of Sam’s father that Samandriel wishes he could physically banish from his alpha’s mind. John Winchester was, by all accounts, a right bastard. Probably not before Sam’s mom had died in a house fire when Sam was only a baby, but he certainly was afterwards.

Benny and Samandriel have had a few conversations in secret. Low whispers stolen when their mates were having “brother-bonding-time” as Samandriel likes to call it, much to Dean’s dismay. Samandriel had felt guilty the first time he’d shared secrets of Sam’s upbringing with his ex, but both he and Benny decided that it was for the best. That supporting the Winchester brothers was always their first and most important goal, and these little conversations would do more help than harm.

So Samandriel not only knows what Sam endured from his father as a child, but what Dean went through as well. The disappointment that the patriarch of the Winchester family could convey in a multitude of ways was put on both of his sons for different reasons; Dean for being an omega, Sam for not being enough of an alpha, and both for surviving the fire when his precious wife did not.

Of course, both Winchester brothers have positive memories of their father as well. John Winchester did indeed love his boys when he was sober, and he tried to do his best by them. But as the years went on and the arsonist ring that had taken Mary Winchester from him proved to be beyond his grasp, the clear-headed moments became fewer and farther between.

His one saving grace, in Samandriel’s opinion, was that he never laid a hand on either of his boys. And when Dean demanded a better life for Sam, taking a stand for a pubescent alpha who needed stability and a _home_ , John listened.

According to Benny, who heard it from Dean, it took weeks of screaming arguments. Most of which ended with Daddy Winchester saying something truly horrible about Dean being a “bitch” who had to “learn his place.” After the last one of these fights, Dean told his father that he may be a bitch, but he was more of a father to Sam than John could ever hope to be while he was drinking and chasing a vengeful dream. That Dean was going to run away with Sam with or without John’s blessing and if John came after them, Dean knew which one of them would be behind the protection of Bobby’s rifle and they _both_ knew that Bobby wouldn’t hesitate to use that rifle if need be.

John, to his credit, let Dean slam the door in his face, sobered up, and drove them to Bobby’s first thing the next morning.

Benny whispered to Samandriel that if Samandriel ever told Dean what followed, Benny would never forgive him, best friend or no. Samandriel promised.

“When they got to Bobby’s, John scented each of his boys in turn. Dean says it was the firs’ time he’d done it in years.” Benny paused to wipe angry tears from his eyes, Samandriel did the same. “Then he told Dean to look after Sam and that he was proud. So proud of his boy. He left the Impala with Dean as a sign of his pride and trust. Dean holds that memory as close to his heart as he can.”

He and Benny scented each other, then. Letting the feeling of pack calm their melancholy at the thought of what their mates endured.

John died three short years later. He was blind drunk at the time and wrapped his car around a tree. Sam was fifteen, Dean nineteen. Samandriel knows that Sam has never truly forgiven his father for wasting his life to drink, and is incredibly careful with alcohol himself. Sam has told Samandriel many times just how thankful he is that John didn’t take anyone else with him the many times he drove drunk and especially the time he ended up dead himself.

Those memories must be doing a number on Sam, now. And Samandriel has vowed many time to ease what little of that pain he can.

Samandriel pulls away from Sam and leads his alpha to their couch. He gently pushes Sam down and follows, settling himself on Sam’s lap. He nuzzles all around Sam’s face, letting his scent calm the alpha like it always does. He knows how much Sam cherishes their bond, how unworthy of it he still feels, even after all this time. Samandriel tries in every way he can to show Sam that he is the most amazing man Samandriel has ever known. How much he deserves joy and love in his life. But there are some wounds that can only become scars. And those scars will flare up at times, like real ones do when it rains.

He loves Sam with everything that he is. And the three years they’ve been together have taught Samandriel how to handle these flare-ups.

“I love you, alpha,” he whispers, punctuating his words with kisses to Sam’s eyelids, his incredible cheekbones, his lips. Feather light touches that reassure and bring Sam back to the present. “You are the kindest, most beautiful man I have ever known.” He lifts Sam’s head up and waits for his alpha to open his gorgeous fox eyes. Then Samandriel meets that watery gaze and locks it with his own.

“You are good,” he says sternly, smoothing the tear tracks on Sam’s face with his thumbs. “You are loved. And you are _worthy_. What that man did, Sam, it is not your fault. I promise you, it was never your fault.” Samandriel knows he’s no longer speaking of the drunk driver, but instead trying to ease the guilt that lives with Sam every day of his life.

Sam breaks then, letting out a guttural moan as he buries his head in Samandriel’s chest. “ _Alfie,_ ” he sobs. “I need—”

“I know, love,” Samandriel interjects. “Let me take care of you. Let it out. I’m here and you’re safe.”

Sam sobs in earnest, and Samandriel just holds on. Sheltering his alpha from a world that is oftentimes far too cruel to deserve Sam Winchester.

 

*****

 

Once Sam has quietened down, Samandriel leads him to the kitchen table. He makes one plate for the both of them and sits as close to his alpha as the table will allow. When Sam reaches for the fork, Samandriel shakes his head and covers Sam’s hand with his own. A deep blush suffuses Sam’s cheeks and he looks down at his lap, but Samandriel places two fingers beneath his alpha’s chin and forces Sam to meet his eyes.

“No shame in this life, beloved,” he intones. He says these words every time he means to take control from Sam, and he means every syllable. Sam has been taught that his needs are shameful as an alpha, and Samandriel will never stop telling him that if Sam’s alpha were any different, he wouldn’t be perfect for one Samandriel Shurley, omega.

Sam’s eyes warm with the words, and he nuzzles his face into Samandriel’s palm. Samandriel knows that Sam will not speak in this state, not unless commanded to.

Samandriel cups Sam’s cheek in his palm as he lifts the first bite to Sam’s lips. “You’re so good for me, alpha. So good.”

Sam closes his eyes in pleasure as he chews, and Samandriel feels himself stirring at his giant alpha fiancé submitting to his control. He takes a bite himself, next, allowing pride to wash over him at how well his meal turned out. His wolf is purring in contentment, reaching to the wolf in Sam who is unsteady and anxious, pacing.  

They continue to eat in this way, Samandriel feeding Sam and then himself, until all of the food is gone from their plate.

“Do you need more, love?” Samandriel asks, stroking a hand through the thick of Sam’s hair. “You may answer.”

“No,” Sam rasps, almost incoherently. And then, “Please.”

Samandriel tightens his hand in Sam’s hair once again, gripping until Sam’s head leans back, exposing the alpha’s throat. Sam moans, his scent thickening with the cinnamon of his arousal.

Samandriel knows his own scent warms, and he can feel himself getting wet. He knows Sam can smell it, which only turns the two of them on more. An endless circle of desire that they both cherish.

“Go to our room,” Samandriel commands, steel in his tone. He knows that Sam needs firm and clear commands when he’s like this. “Take off your clothes and put them in the hamper, then lie face down on the bed and wait for me.” Sam whines a bit, and Samandriel smiles wolfishly at his alpha’s impatience. “I promise I won’t make you wait long, alpha, but I know you can be good for me, yes?”

Sam nods frantically, his scent going a little tart in his need to please his omega. Samandriel soothes him by placing his palm directly over his alpha’s heart, where his bond-bite lies hidden beneath Sam’s shirt.

“Don’t fret, love,” he calms. “You are perfect. I love you. Now go.”

He stands up from the table and turns his back on Sam, setting about cleaning up after dinner. He is calm and deliberate as he puts the food away and loads their dishwasher. Letting the meatloaf pan soak in the sink while he wipes down counters.

As he works, his mind wanders to what Sam is certainly doing in the next room. Sometimes when they have these days, Samandriel watches Sam prepare to be taken, controlled, worshiped. He knows his alpha will be trying desperately not to rush, to make sure that his clothes are where they belong, either folded and put away or in the laundry hamper. That he will lower himself onto their bed with the utmost care, attempting to keep his thick (and no doubt heavy with arousal) cock off of the bedspread in order to avoid accidentally taking pleasure where he is not yet allowed.

Samandriel loves to watch Sam give himself this. The right to give himself up to someone he loves and trusts, the right to need to let go every so often. The transformation his alpha undergoes is one of the most tantalizing things that Samandriel has witnessed in his short time on this earth.

That’s not to say that the omega doesn’t absolutely crave those times when Sam loses his control in another way: times when he slams Samandriel into whatever surface is nearest and _owns_ his omega in a frenzy that is oftentimes desperate. Times when Samandriel can barely catch his breath before his alpha is grinding his knot into Samandriel’s prostate, sinking his teeth into the omega’s neck and forcing him to take and take and take whatever parts of Sam his alpha feels like giving him. Sam is _his_ , and any way he gets that is beautiful in Samandriel’s eyes.

But he can’t help the anticipation that is building at what he knows he’ll see when he walks into their room. All six feet and four inches of muscular alpha perfection spread out like a feast on their bed. Sam’s muscles will be taut from the tension of keeping himself still and there will most likely be a light sheen of sweat on his tanned skin. Samandriel’s wolf paces languidly in his mind, snuffling in arousal at the thought of pinning his bonded down and staking a claim.

Samandriel shudders and grips the kitchen counter at the spike of lust that rushes through him at the thought. He knows he’ll have to keep control once he gets in their room, so he allows himself this weakness now.

When he decides enough time has passed, he wets a soft kitchen towel and makes his way to where Sam is waiting, exactly as he envisioned.

“Perfect.” Samandriel says while he undresses, casting his clothes much more haphazardly than he’d allowed Sam to do. He throws the dishtowel on the bed. “Perfect for me, alpha.”

Sam visibly shudders with the praise, and his fists tighten their hold on the metal bars at the head of their bedframe. Samandriel can tell that he wants to rut against the bed, relieve some of his tension, but he restrains himself. Samandriel pulls off the rest of his clothes and reaches behind himself to gather some of his slick, stroking his dick lazily as he takes in the sight of Samuel Winchester’s perfect body.

“Good, Sammy. Now, up on your knees. Spread yourself out for me.”  
  
Sam does as he is told, his skin flushing prettily as he pulls his knees underneath him and rests his shoulders on the bed, head turned to the left. He is exposed in this position in a way that he was told alphas should never be. Wanton, waiting to be taken.

Samandriel doesn’t make him wait any longer. He climbs onto the bed, letting Sam’s scent wash over him. His alpha’s arousal is so strong it’s cloying, making Samandriel dizzy with it. He follows the scent to where it is strongest and picks up the dishtowel, gently wiping around Sam’s hole and even dipping inside.

Sam keens a bit, and Samandriel shushes him, resting his head on Sam’s asscheek while his breath gusts across his alpha’s opening. “Let me clean you, love, before I give you my tongue, then my fingers.” He twists the towel inside Sam, working the muscle loose. “And then my cock. You want that, don’t you?”

Sam nods so hard that Samandriel can feel it from his perch on Sam’s perfect ass, and he chuckles, making Sam tense at the sensation.

“Good boy.” He throws the towel aside and sits back, admiring how debauched Sam already looks. “Spread yourself for me, love. Open up.”

Sam does as he’s told.

“There’s my puppy,” Samandriel intones, giving in to the temptation his alpha provides and laving his tongue against Sam’s opening. He can smell Sam’s arousal thicken as he gets his alpha’s hole sloppy wet, wriggling his tongue into the vice of Sam’s hole. Loosening, pleasuring. He gets lost in the sensation of Sam’s most intimate place gripping his tongue, pistons his tongue in and out of Sam’s body, stopping every so often to suck at his rim.

Then Samandriel notices that Sam is stock-still, his arms impossibly tense where he’s holding himself open, and Samandriel doesn’t want that _at all_.

“Let go love,” he says as he pries Sam’s hands from his ass, then rubs the alpha’s back soothingly. “Relax. I’ve got you.” Sam’s hands fall to his sides, but he’s still locked up. Samandriel strokes the muscles in Sam’s back, kneads his unbelievably perfect ass until Sam melts, finally letting go of his tension, fully trusting Samandriel to take care of him.

It’s beautiful, and Samandriel thinks that he could live another sixty years and never stop feeling truly blessed that he gets to call this amazing man _his_.

“There you go, alpha,” he rasps, gathering the slick that is trickling steadily further and further down the back of his own thighs and coating his hand liberally with it. “You’re mine.”

He circles one finger around Sam’s opening, holding the alpha open with his other hand as he slowly slides his finger in. Sam is loosened slightly from the rimming Samandriel had done earlier, but he is still worryingly tight. They do this regularly, but not enough so that Sam is ever as loose as an omega when they start. So Samandriel is careful when he opens his bonded up. He ignores his wolf, who is pacing through his mind impatiently, fed up with Samandriel’s care. In this moment, he controls his lupine side in order to turn his fiancé to mush.

He buries that first finger deep inside, warming all over when Sam sighs below him. Every second they do this, Sam becomes a little more pliant, a little less rigid. His body knows that he needs this, even if his mind needs more time to accept it.

Samandriel knows that Sam won’t break, so he slowly retracts his finger, replenishes his slick, and pushes two inside of Sam. Wiggling a bit to ease the resistance he feels.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, knowing that talk helps Sam as much as anything else. “You’re so gorgeous like this, Sammy.” His fingers sink in to the webbing, the last of Sam’s resistance liquefying at the praise. Samandriel scissors his fingers deep inside, loving the way that Sam positively lolls into his touch. “My strong alpha, giving me what I need. So stunning in your pleasure, love.” He pulls back again and breaches Sam with three fingers, coated so liberally with Samandriel’s slick that they squelch.

Sam moans, bowing his back even further at the sound.

“That’s my slick inside you, Sammy. I’m already inside you, filling you up just like you need.” Samandriel is starting to burn, now. His own arousal turning to molten fire in his veins as Sam pants into their bedspread, loose and wet and perfect. His wolf is growling, now. But there is still one thing left to do:

“Tell me, Puppy,” he demands. “Tell me what you need.” He reaches his free hand up to Sam’s head and grips the long locks tight, grounding them both.

“Please,” Sam wheezes. “Please fuck me, my mate. Need it.” His voice is thin and reedy with that need, and it makes Samandriel’s wolf almost frantic. Without warning, Sam’s scent goes from aroused to anxious. “Good for you, I’ll be good. I promise—”

Samandriel pulls Sam’s torso off of the bed and cuts that speech off with a harsh kiss. He plunges his tongue into Sam’s mouth, making the alpha taste himself, mingled with Samandriel’s own slick. It is filthy and kinky and everything that Sam believed for far too long he couldn’t want. _Shouldn’t_ want. They both groan at the sensation, and Sam’s scent goes back to the cloying cinnamon that makes both Samandriel and his wolf keen in anticipation. He pulls back to suck on Sam’s ear, licking inside that sensitive spot until Sam is mewling.

“You’re always good for me,” he avows. “Always, alpha. And we will do this as many times as it takes for you to know that down into your bones.” He lets Sam go and the alpha bounces, ragdoll-like, back onto to bed. Back into the exact same position he was in before.

“Yes, like that.” Samandriel coats his cock with slick and rubs even more around Sam’s hole until they’re both glistening in the low light. He holds Sam open with one hand while he guides himself inside with the other. Pushing firmly but slowly until his balls rest against his alpha’s ass.

He falls onto Sam, feeling for any tension, any reticence. But his alpha is unwound beneath him, and Samandriel bites down on Sam’s shoulder blade, pulling his cock back out of the tight-perfect heat and then slamming back inside. Sam moans and rocks with the thrust, completely lax. Samandriel knows that he is in his subspace, finally. And he knows he must be careful with Sam as lost as he is.

“Talk to me, Sammy,” he grunts, thrusting again and again. “Tell me you’re with me.”

“’M here,” Sam slurs. “Love you, Alfie.” His breath hitches as Samandriel picks up speed.

“And what—” Samandriel’s breath catches as his wolf shakes in his mind. “What are you, beloved?”

“’M good.”

Samandriel angles himself until he feels a cluster of nerves rub against his cock, Sam whimpers as his prostate is stroked on every thrust. “And what else, my mate?”

“Loved.” He gasps, and Samandriel can hear that Sam is crying.

“What else?” Samandriel demands, slowing his thrusts to rocking motions so he can lean down and lick Sam’s tears away. “What else, bonded?”

“I—” Sam tenses, suddenly, his eyes screwing shut. “I _can’t_.”

Samandriel’s heart swells and he locks himself deep inside Sam’s body, bringing his arms up to hook around the front of Sam’s shoulders, enclosing Sam in warmth.

“You _can_ , my love. Tell me. Tell me what you _are_.” He nuzzles behind Sam’s ear. “Would I love you as I do if you were not?”

Sam sighs, the tension dissipating once again. “No,” he whispers.

“Then what are you?”

Sam takes a deep breath and breathes, “Worthy.”

“Yes, my beautiful alpha, you are.”

Samandriel begins to rock in and out of Sam again, gently, bringing them both back to the pleasure of their union. He can feel Sam slipping under again, completely at ease after his admission of worth. “Do you need to come, alpha?” Samandriel asks, rising up for leverage as his thrusts sped up once more.

“Please.”

“How—how do you want to come, Puppy?” His hips are losing rhythm, now, and he reigns in his control, focusing on Sam’s need.

“Please,” Sam whimpers again, but Samandriel is adamant.

“ _Tell me_.” He commands, voice as strong as if he had alpha-influence.

“Like this,” Sam gasps. “Just like this.”

Samandriel’s body blurts slick and he pulls almost all the way out of Sam and then slams back in, fucking Sam as hard as he can. Sam is too far into subspace to seize up, but his scent is getting thicker and more cloying: he’s close. Samandriel focuses on grazing Sam’s prostate with every thrust.

“Wanna come on my cock, Puppy?”

Sam whines. Samandriel feels his orgasm barreling towards him. But first,

“Then come. _Now_.”

And Sam does. His body tightens just a bit, his scent becoming almost suffocating, before he sighs and Samandriel’s wolf tenses at his bonded’s mating howl. Samandriel fucks hard and fast into Sam’s pliant body, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own pleasure. His orgasm hits hard and he screams, his wolf echoing the sound in the harshness of its howl. He collapses down on Sam’s back and breathes for a couple of seconds, the world coming back to him slowly.

He pulls out of Sam carefully, then stands on weak legs and goes to the bathroom to get a towel to clean them both up. He comes back to bed and flips Sam over, the two hundred plus pounds of alpha boneless in his hands, but he manages. He spreads Sam’s legs wide and kneels between them, leaning down to suck his own cum and slick out of his alpha.

Sam gasps and his cock gives a half-hearted twitch. He sounds almost surprised, even though Samandriel always ends these days this way. He holds the tastes of himself in his mouth and crawls back up Sam’s body, feeding his juices to his alpha. They kiss sloppily as Sam swallows everything Samandriel gives to him, something deep in the alpha easing at the physical evidence of what he does to his omega.

Samandriel sucks lazily on Sam’s tongue, then his bottom lip, then noses along the underside of his jaw.

“You’re exactly as I need you to be,” he intones directly into Sam’s ear. “And I am so thankful that you are here with me.”

Sam turns his head and captures Samandriel’s lips once again. Samandriel smiles into his alpha’s mouth, clacking his teeth on Sam’s when Sam does the same.

In a few minutes, he’ll clean them both up, then drape himself over his alpha and let Sam’s scent lull him to sleep. But for now, he’s content to smile into Sam’s smile and thank the stars and sun, both, that Sam Winchester turned out to be the exact alpha that he is. 

**Author's Note:**

> Bonding coming sooooooon! 
> 
> Kudos=more shmoop.  
> Comments=faster writing of the smut. ;) 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!!!


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